Just One Moment
by bec1001
Summary: Spencer's life has always been missing something. SpencerAshley. Future OneShot.


**JUST ONE MOMENT**

South of Nowhere One-Shot

A/N: There's been barely any Spencer/Ashley interaction on South of Nowhere recently. This is a future one-shot I thought up while wishing they could actually have a genuine scene together on the show! No characters here are my own.

"Glen, where are we going?" Spencer groaned. She was 26, and still being dragged around by her older brother. She had come back to Los Angeles to spend Christmas with her family—Paula, Arthur, Glen, his girlfriend Annie, Chelsea, and Spencer's nephew, Little Clay, who was eight. Spencer herself had been living in London for seven years, working as a magazine editor at a London-based lifestyles magazine. As much as she enjoyed London, driving around in Glen's Land Rover in the appreciated December California sunshine was something she didn't get every day, and she was loving it. Even if she didn't know where Glen was taking her.

"Just somewhere," he grinned wickedly, and she laughed. After so much time had passed, her brother was still the same. She wouldn't have it any other way. They passed by King High School, and Spencer's head was flooded with the millions of memories she still associated with that place—she could still remember her first day, as an Ohio transplant, more clearly than anything.

She remember other times at King, too. She still had a hard time thinking about it, about the school and the people in it who had changed her. She had come from Ohio naïve, scared, and innocent, and had been shaped by her high school years in Los Angeles. As much as she hated to admit it, her chaotic relationship with Ashley had changed her—she was bolder now, and stronger, and more confident. She thought about Ashley every day, occasionally seeing the girl who had long ago captured her heart on magazine covers and within their pages, candid snapshots of Ashley, drinking and smoking or more often both, giving a cameraman the finger, her eyes narrowed and mouth open in a scream or threatening warning.

But that was in the past, Spencer had to remind herself, as she felt herself spin back into the stories and events of her past. She had blocked them from her mind, or at least tried to, anyway; the memories of Ashley and of her past too hard to bear all the time. She had left Los Angeles the day after she'd graduated from King High School, and she had done so with a purpose. Though she appreciated what she'd gained from her years in California—her newfound self-assurance and strength, and the ability to surprise herself—she needed to escape the tumultuousness of her on-and-off relationship with Ashley. When together, they were a mess of jealousy and anger, frustration and sadness; apart, they were both miserable, lonely, and depressed. Spencer knew she had to get away, or else the confines of her attachment to Ashley would bind her forever. And so, painful as it was, she said her tear-filled goodbyes and got on that plane, returning infrequently for a few Christmases and once for Little Clay's birthday, but mostly staying in England, far away from the dramas that had interrupted her high school life. She missed her family, missed her friends, but knew it was for the best. Los Angeles made her think of Ashley, and Ashley still made her head pound and her heart hurt. And if that meant she had to stay away, she would. She had to.

After another half hour of driving, Spencer realized they were pulling into a crowded parking lot and all of a sudden Glen was dragging his little sister into a crowded concert hall.

"Glen?" She asked apprehensively, her voice faltering as he pushed their way towards the front of the arena, closer to the stage. She knew exactly where they were and what was going on, but was still scared, still too stubborn, to let go completely. "Glen, what are we doing here?"

"I want you to be happy, Spencer," Glen told her earnestly. "Please just be happy for me."

And Spencer knew her brother was right. He had visited her more frequently than anyone, the two siblings becoming closer in the time that had passed since Clay had passed away. Each cherished their visits, and Spencer knew she could never talk about Clay like she could with Glen. Clay's death was like an impenetrable sadness buried deep within her, bottled up so that nobody could see it, and that was how she liked it. Only with Glen could she let that sadness out, only he understood the emotional complexity of missing a sibling. Since the shooting and the unraveling of her relationship with Ashley, Spencer had never been able to let anyone new into her heart. Sure, she had friends in London—the people she spent her lunch break with at work; her roommate and closest friend, Sasha, and a few brief flings with girls she'd met at bars or clubs—but there was nobody who knew her, nobody who understood her, nobody who knew about Clay. Or Ashley.

The only one who she could let in was Glen, her brother Glen, and she knew that for him, she could be happy. She could not deny Glen something he asked of her, and so when he asked her to be happy, she let loose like she hadn't in seven years. And when Ashley Davies was at the front of the stage, her brown hair curly and messy, her makeup as dark and thick and smudgy as ever, wearing the Rafe Davies vest she wore at every one of her concerts—the same one that had been stolen out of her King High locker, the same one Spencer had retrieved for her—Spencer was _happy_. She danced in the crowd, grinning at Glen, watching the girl she had once loved—would _always _love—strum her guitar and sing songs that she'd written herself. Some of them, Spencer knew had been written about her; she listened to the lyrics and admired what Ashley had done with her life. Her talent was clear as she made her audience crazier with every song.

"Happy?" Glen asked his little sister hopefully, as she gazed up at Ashley. She turned her big blue eyes back on Glen.

"Happy," Spencer confirmed, and Glen was satisfied. He and the guy next to him lifted Spencer up on their shoulders, raising her up above the crowd, and she squealed with the newfound height, but realized suddenly what Glen had purposefully done when she felt eyes on her—brown eyes, beautiful brown eyes, eyes she hadn't felt upon her since she'd been in high school, 18 years old, since she'd made a mistake and gotten on a plane.

The crowd didn't notice the missed beat of the song, the pause created by Ashley's eyes widening and her mouth falling into a deep "O" before diving right back into her song. But her eyes stayed locked on Spencer's, finding the girl she'd once given her heart and soul to as beautiful as she'd ever been. Spencer was older now, sure, 26 years old, but she was the same as ever, her blond hair flying loosely over her shoulders, eyes as big and blue as they'd always been. Her smile, that bright-white toothy smile, was splayed wide across her face, grinning up unabashed at Ashley. And Ashley could not help but grin right back.

At the end of her set, an audience of thousands screaming for more, Ashley cleared her throat and pulled her dad's vest close around her, knowing that what she was about to do was the thing she had to do. She stood in the middle of the stage, holding a microphone in her hand, the thing she was born to do.

"There's someone special here tonight—someone I haven't seen for years but who I've been in love with my entire life. And so—so—this last song is for her."

The crowd went wild and Glen helped Spencer back to her feet, as she clasped her hands in front of her like a little girl, falling in love with Ashley all over again as her pop star ex-girlfriend opened her mouth to sing.

---

"Spencer Carlin?" Spencer told the guard nervously when she showed up backstage. Glen had told her he'd wait in the car when the concert had finished and Spencer had known she had to go backstage and meet Ashley again—meet her for the first time in a long time.

"Can I see some ID?"

Spencer rapidly fished her driver's license from her wallet and he okayed it, allowing her to follow him back into the waiting room and dressing room that belonged to Ashley. He motioned to a chair where she could sit and a few minutes later, Ashley was there—Ashley Davies, her Ashley, wearing jeans and a white tank top and Rafe Davies vest, just like always. Ashley, with the makeup and the curls and the scowl, was standing in front of her, the same girl and yet entirely different, all at the same time.

"Ashley," Spencer breathed, exhaling all the anxiety inside of her, as Ashley just stood there two feet in front of her, hands in her pockets, taking in everything that was Spencer.

And then Ashley couldn't take being blasé and cool anymore, and tears threatened to smear her makeup as she bit her lip.

"Oh fuck it, Spencer!" And she quickly wrapped her arms around Spencer like she hadn't in eight years. Spencer hugged her back, hugged her to make up for years without seeing the girl who had stolen her heart so many years ago. Ashley smiled and whispered, "I've missed you," into the blonde girl's ear. Spencer's face tinged pink with embarrassment as she grinned shyly.

"I've missed you too," Spencer admitted.

"I have so much I want to tell you and ask you and…" Ashley began, smiling. Then she stopped herself. "How much time do you have?"

"For you?" Spencer asked, surprised at the question. She laughed, a certain heaviness being lifted off of her. "Forever."


End file.
